Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1887-08-22


taut water She is cold aud dead at heart
She knows his handwriting She must
read and-live or die.
The words must burn through her ewes
and fire her brain. Yet she does not cry
reads again his cold farewell Better for
us TO part at once. We have made
a mistake. Before reading this you
will have heard Of your husbands suicide
/ You drove him To il. He was a good hus-
band 10 You and you deceived him We
might live on together even now. when
love is dead, but you could hardly expect
me to respect you, knowing your crime
toward him. For my part l am
heartily sorry"
The servant had gone away, and the
woman who read this fell down on her
face upon the floor.
God she cried huskily ''my crime!
He told me what to do. He urged me
he implored Ii was for his sake that
sinned, and now he turns to taunt me''
She had cried her last strength of pas
sion out with these few husky words.
Now she lay silent for time. II Was the
end. She saw that his love was dead AMI
he could not respect her. She would not
nave HNi come bdCh W utE HoN, Hp' iti
all the wealth of the universe. She would
not have him back. But how to live with
out him. How to live, to think, to breathe'
How 20 keep from shriekinG to heaven to
let her dics
Francis loved her no longer. The end
had come. Ii was Nemesis. She had
wrongei her husband; that husband )
death avenged the wrong. All was over,
a 4 .f hl,,
The afternoon had dragged to its close.
The sun had set, and a soft breeze stirred
the glorious trees in the road. Twilight
deepened. A slender form went out of
the house and down the path and through
the gate. She did not look back, though
she knew she was going out forever. She
did not turn her white, pinChed face up
ward for any starlight to bless. She
walked with head bent down, cold as il
half dead already. Sometimes she said
over to herself her name, Irene" and hi
name, Francis"
Dusk was fully come as she left the
road and went slowly down the railroad
toward the dark shadow Of the deep cut
lust before the curve-the deep cut, with
its sheer rock walls and old stone viaduet
above.
lUlO lDt SHd'ltN shC ptsssSN SloNlg ltS-
oiutely, untremblingly.
The train sped swiftly along One man
sat with head thrown hack and eyes fixed
upon the car lamps. 1T IL quite dark by
this time" he said. Il wonder if she is
lonely. wonder il she has cried much,
and if she is wishing for me to come now
i shouldn't have written that
letter. But she'll forgive me. &.
No. | was a brute, l suppose. &.
Still she made me 50 mad. And that in
fernal suicide. She loved me
very much; she must have loved me to
go with me. Well, it's all over now.
He's dead Well marry and she'll get
over shedding tears and moping. She'll
get over il when her health is better. &.
| wish hadn't written that letter. III
not do SO again She must have
loved me very much. / don't suppose in
her place Id have made the sacrifice. And
she's been very true and good TO me. =.
That cursed letter. Why did l, {.
But il s all over now"
There was queer vibration Of the car
He stopped thinking and sat up. The
train was coming 10 an abrupt stop. This
was no station. They were not yet at
Westtield. Had anything happened-any
accident,
The train had come to full stop. 1t
was backing up now quite slowly.
He thought he would go out on the plat
form and see what the trouble was or had
been.
He shivered little at what he had
heard.
Some one walking upon the track had
been struck and killed.
BY and by, after considerable delay, he
saw them lifting n white mass and carry
ing il upon a stretcher.
They took it into the baggage car. He
hurried forward from his coach as the
train began slowly TO move onward.
And now he shuddered more and more.
For some one said: "A woman young and
beautiful And some one else: Man
gled' No, not bleeding much" And still
another voice said: yellow hair in curls
and slender form''-
He had reached the stretcher in the
baggage car. He pushed through the Ellen
who stood talking with Mortified coutte
nances. He reached ont and lifted the
covering from the dead face.
"Merciful Christi he cried thickly.
''Irene!" and fell senseless beside her.
And so. and so the ghost of Westfield
walks ever sad and wan below the village
in the deep railway cut, the same on
murky nights as when the clear stars
shine or the bland moon smiles upon the
woes of many mortals-Lily Curry in
New York Mercury.